


the skin a bit thicker

by nicalyse



Category: Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Post 3.22
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-12
Updated: 2012-10-12
Packaged: 2017-11-16 04:38:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/535583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicalyse/pseuds/nicalyse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe he should hate her for everything she's done, for her part in everything that's happened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the skin a bit thicker

**Author's Note:**

> This was written prior to 4.01.

Rebekah melts out of the shadows outside the Grill a few weeks after everything goes down, her hands tucked into the pockets of her dark, expensive-looking coat, her hair hanging loose around her face. As far as Matt knows, no one has seen her in the weeks since the accident. He can't imagine what she wants from him, but he isn't really surprised to see her.

"Will you come with me?"

All she has to do is ask, the confidence in her voice undermined by the uncertainty in her eyes, like she thinks he might say no. It's weird how that works. He can't say no, and it's not compulsion.

He doesn't want to say no.

*

"I don't have any sinister ulterior motives," Rebekah tells him. "I promise."

"I believe you. I don't know why," Matt grins, and her face changes completely when she smiles like that; it's almost like she's just another beautiful girl, "but I believe you."

Joking aside, he can't explain why he's willing to be alone with her right now. Everything's fucked up - everything - and she's at least partially responsible. But then, so is he, and he can't seem to make himself hate her or be afraid of her or whatever it is that everyone else would expect him to feel right now.

"I just don't want to be alone," she says, her lilting voice so soft he nearly doesn't hear her, "and I like spending time with you."

In spite of everything, he wants to believe her, so he does. 

He wants to spend time with her, so he does.

*

It becomes a thing, hanging out with Rebekah. No one says anything to him about it. Everyone else is wrapped up in their own things, and Matt stopped expecting to get noticed ages ago.

They're both alone. The way he sees it, they might as well be alone together.

*

"I never meant for you to get hurt."

He looks away from the television, from the movie she insisted they watch, and sees that she's very carefully not looking at him. "Okay."

When she does turn her face to him, he can't quite read the expression in her eyes. "I'm not sorry for what I did."

"I know." When he looks at things objectively, he gets why she did it.

She stares at him for a moment, the huffs out a breath, shaking her head. "I don't understand you." Her eyes go hard. "You should hate me."

Maybe. Maybe he should hate her for everything she's done, for her part in everything that's happened.

"But I don't."

And really, it's just that simple.

*

When the insurance payout on Matt's truck comes through, Rebekah offers to come with him to look for a new one.

"Didn't you say something about a Maserati once?" she asks, wrinkling her nose at the rusting floorboard of a Chevy.

He grins and shakes his head. "Don't even think about it."

"That's too bad." She tilts her head, appraising him. "You'd look good in a sports car. Blue, I think."

"Rebekah."

She rolls her eyes dramatically. "Fine. But this truck is disgusting," she declares, slamming the door. The heels of her boots click loudly on the pavement as she walks away.

He's pretty sure that she compels the salesman to knock back the price of the truck that he ultimately chooses, but he lets that one go without comment.

*

She shows up at the house unannounced on his night off wearing a white sweater and carrying a bottle of bourbon. It's so absurd and so scarily ordinary all at the same time that it makes his head spin a little.

You would think he'd be used to that by now.

They sit together on the swing on the back porch with the blanket from the back of the couch draped over their laps, sipping their drinks and watching the stars coming out in the distance.

"I haven't had a night like this in a long time," Rebekah says softly. She shifts, pulling her legs up onto the swing beside her, her shoulder pressed to his for just a moment by the movement.

"How long is a long time?" he asks, genuinely curious. 

She takes a tiny breath. "Centuries." She lifts her glass to her lips. He watches her throat when she swallows. "Maybe longer."

Matt doesn't say anything, but when she turns to face him to say something else, he leans down to brush his lips against hers, a ghost of a kiss.

He doesn't know how to explain what this is between them.

He doesn't want to try.


End file.
